


Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust: A Destiel Fanfiction

by rain_fa3ri3



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Charlie Ships It, Cursed Dean Winchester, Cute, Dean is 3 inches tall, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, EVERYONE fucking ships it okay??, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Garth Ships It, Hell, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miniature Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Sam Winchester, Romantic Fluff, Rowena Ships it, SPN - Freeform, Saileen - Freeform, Sam Ships It, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Supernatural - Freeform, To a point, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, eileen ships it, fuck personal space, like literal size difference, or should I say short, shrunken dean winchester, size!fic, tiny!dean winchester, witches are jerks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:14:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25703413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_fa3ri3/pseuds/rain_fa3ri3
Summary: Dean, Sam, and Castiel go up against a witch- and Dean gets cursed with a mysterious purple powder, and is now only 3 inches tall.In which Castiel and Sam are protective, Dean is scared and hurt, and Destiel is out of control.(This takes place sometime after season 11, with all the Human!Cas stuff, but Charlie is ALIVE because canon SUCKS and is NOT RELEVANT HERE)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Destiel, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, saileen
Comments: 11
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! I just had this idea, and I'm in love with it. Love me some tiny!destiel. (and there *is* more to come)

**Dean**

_“TAKE THIS YOU SON OF A BITCH!”_ Dean yells as he punches the witch in the face. Sam is knocked out cold, Cas restrained by holy fire. And Dean’s gun, loaded with witch killing bullets, is uselessly lying across the room. This witch was prepared, Dean would give it that. 

And another punch.

The witch stumbles at the blow, spitting out blood, and Dean winds up for yet another swing just as the witch acts. He swipes a leg out, knocking Dean flat on his back. Before Dean can react, a purple, sparkly powder falls over him and he hears the witch muttering an incantation before he seizes in pain and everything goes black…

**Castiel**

_“DEAN!”_ Castiel yells as he sees the hunter fall. He has to do something. He has to help. He has to save Dean, and Sam- he has to get _out_. Castiel looks around, frantically calculating what he can use to escape. He almost doesn’t hear the sound of rain- barely a drizzle, but it will do. Castiel looks at the rafters directly above him and uses his grace to gouge a hole in the roof, allowing rain to spill down on and around him. 

The holy fire fizzles out, and Castiel surges toward the witch who notices Castiel too late- just as Castiel plunges his angel blade directly into his heart. Castiel barely notes the blood seeping onto his hand, his coat, and merely tosses the witch’s body aside in favor of looking over to Dean- who is gone. 

_“Dean?!”_ Castiel calls. He dematerializes his angel blade and scans the room. Sam is still slumped against the wall with a gash on his head- unconscious, but not in immediate danger. Could the witch have transported Dean somewhere? He could be anywhere. There is some powder still on the ground. If Castiel gathers some he can study it and maybe tell-

Castiel’s thoughts are cut off by a minuscule groan he can only hear due to his grace-enhanced hearing. He looks down to where he heard the noise come from and scans the ground. And then he sees, there, right where he would have stepped next, a three-inch-tall _Dean_.

**Dean**

Dean groans and covers his ears instinctively at the loud rumble- it only makes his headache worse. And boy, does he ache- _everywhere_ . Hell, he hurts in places he didn’t know he could hurt, and he’s hurt in a _hell_ of a lot of ways. To top it off, he can feel the wetness of blood on the back of his head from where he hit it when he fell, and knows he probably has a concussion. Whatever _it_ is. 

He is about to open his eyes when he feels something very, very large shifting to his right. He feels warmth getting closer, and it’s only then that he realizes how cold he is. That son of a bitch could have done anything to him, and the _something_ next to him could be friendly- or it could be about to kill him. But Dean is not one to go down without a fight. 

Dean stills himself, waits for the Thing to stop moving, then springs to action. He pulls his knife out of his pocket and leaps to his feet in one fluid motion, digging the blade into the area of the Thing closest to him. The Thing doesn’t react, and Dean takes a moment to take in how _big_ it is: a solid, black mass a few feet taller than him...but it keeps going, up and up for miles, up to a mountain of tan, and, so many miles up, is…

_“Cas?”_

**Castiel**

Castiel sits cross-legged on the floor next to Dean, a little wary, watching him carefully. When Dean says his name, Castiel nods, and feels a pang as Dean stumbles backwards at the movement, stumbles back in _fear_. 

“Dean, it’s alright-” Castiel begins, raising a hand to attempt to comfort the hunter, but Dean shouts, still a tiny noise, and covers his ears as he sinks to the ground.

Castiel freezes immediately, and adjusts his voice accordingly. He whispers, “My apologies. You are safe, Dean: the witch is dead.” 

Dean doesn’t seem comforted by the information. On the contrary, Castiel watches as Dean trembles, face buried in his arms, knees to his chest, breathing rapid and erratic. 

Dean is having a panic attack.

Castiel’s mind works rapid-fire, trying to figure out a way to help Dean, some way to give him comfort. He realizes he, in and of himself, is probably adding to Dean’s anxiety ten-fold just by being there. He can sense with his grace that Dean is hurting, and that he is terrified, and, above all, _cold_ . Humans were not built to be this size, and the floor of the witch’s cabin is unforgiving, hard concrete, and it is _Autumn_ to top it all off. Dean needs _warmth_.

Castiel whispers, even lower than before, “Dean, I am going to put my hand around you now. You are extremely cold, which will make your heart beat accelerate at a dangerous pace- I wish to prevent this. Is that alright with you?”

Castiel sees Dean stiffen even more as he speaks, and notes a barely visible, tiny nod. He raises his right hand before remembering it is covered in blood. He cleans it in a second with his grace, and proceeds to ever so slowly lower his hand to cup around Dean. He can feel Dean’s shivers against his fingertips, and Dean never looks up, but slowly, slowly, his breathing becomes more normal. 

Once his panic subsides, Castiel feels Dean shifting so as to be further encased in the warmth of Castiel’s palm.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean mutters, and Castiel only barely catches it, even with his enhanced hearing. 

“Of course, Dean,” he breathes. “Of course.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is faced with one of his worst fears: heights.

**Dean**

_ Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. _ Dean can’t think. He can’t think about how he’s just a few inches tall. He can’t think about how fucking  _ big _ the world is. He can’t think about how he’s smaller than Cas’s  _ finger _ , and that he’s  _ literally in Castiel’s hand, Jesus fucking Christ. Holy fuck. _

“Deep breaths, Dean.” Dean  _ knows _ Cas is whispering, but his voice is still so  _ loud _ . He had calmed down, but then he started to  _ think _ again, and that went out the window. 

Dean tenses when he feels Castiel’s hand shift around him, then a soothing, feather-light pressure as Castiel rubs a finger down Dean’s back over and over. Dean still can’t open his eyes, but the repetition is calming nonetheless. His breathing slows again, and he finally lets out a deep exhale. 

“Cas...I’m gonna open my eyes again.”

“Take your time, Dean.”

Dean takes another breath, then looks up, up, up to Cas’s face, to his blue eyes bigger than Dean’s head-  _ no _ , he thinks,  _ I can’t think like that. This is  _ Cas _ damnit.  _ And he knows Cas would do anything and everything to protect him.

“Are you alright?” Cas asks, head tilted slightly, eyes narrowed. Dean smiles at the familiarity of it.

“Yeah, I think so. Might have a concussion, and everything fucking hurts, I guess from shrinking. But other than that, I’m good.”

“May I heal you?” Castiel asks after a pause.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean says, but his mind screams for Castiel to  _ not move at all, it’s all so overwhelming, please make it stop. _

Castiel slowly maneuvers his hand so his pointer finger is on Dean’s forehead, his touch so gentle for being so large. 

Dean squeezes his eyes shut as Castiel moves, holding his breath. The gesture is familiar, but so different, because the tip of Castiel’s finger is the size of Dean’s head. Dean jolts as he feels Castiel’s grace wash over him, healing his head wound and easing the mind numbing pain that had been wracking his body. He feels the grace in every atom of his being, feels Castiel surging his power through him, trying to cure him, trying to make things right. 

After several minutes, Castiel removes his finger with a sigh and gently places his hand back around Dean, who is shivering again. 

Dean keeps his eyes shut a few moments longer before finally looking up at Cas. “No dice?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. The magic...it’s....unfamiliar. And not anything I am able to correct. But I am certain we will find a way,” Castiel adds quickly, Dean knows, because of the look on his own face he had tried to hide: defeat.

“Are you okay, Cas? And Sam- where is he?”

Castiel looks worried, but answers nonetheless. “I’m okay; this is not my blood,” he says in such a  _ Cas _ way, gesturing to the front of his coat and dress shirt, “and Sam is over there. Unconscious, but fine.” He points across the room, and Dean squints in that direction, but realizes he can’t see more than a blur, what he calculates as about ten (normal sized) feet away. He tells Cas as much.

“That makes sense,” he muses, “considering how human vision has limits at a regular size. When you shrunk, your vision accommodated.”

“Huh.” Dean sits quietly for a few minutes, just trying to keep his breathing in check. Then nods determinedly. “You should go check on Sammy.”

Castiel tilts his head. “I can’t leave you here.”

“I’ll be fine, Cas.”

“No, you won’t. You would freeze to death in a matter of minutes, or get stepped on, or eaten by a rat.”

Dean sits with that knowledge for a minute, wanting to be defiant, but knowing he can’t be. Walking on his own is out of the question, for all the reasons Cas just mentioned. Which leaves one thing: being carried.

Dean squirms uncomfortably, knowing it’s the only feasible option, yet  _ really _ not wanting to go on what’s basically an airplane ride. No thank you.

“I...can carry you, Dean,” Castiel says, Dean knows, so  _ he _ won’t have to suggest it. Dean looks at Castiel’s palm to his left, can see the tiny lines on his skin normally invisible to him; then he looks over at the large mountain of brown in the distance that he knows is Sam. They have to check on Sammy. Dean has to do this, no matter how terrifying it is.

“Okay.”

Castiel simply nods, then slowly moves his hand so it is lying palm up on the ground next to Dean, ready for him to walk onto.  _ (God, how weird does  _ that  _ sound?) _ Dean shakes his head and stands, takes a deep breath, and steps up onto Castiel’s hand. He just stands there for a moment before Castiel says, “Maybe you should sit?”

Dean nods and complies, totally  _ not  _ thinking about the situation at hand (ha). 

“I’m going to lift my hand now, and stand.”

And Dean’s stomach plummets; his heart flies to his chest; his head spins, as he goes up, up, up. Castiel’s hand is steady, yes, but that does nothing for the vertigo. Dean barely realizes he is clinging to Castiel’s ring finger for dear life, flat on his stomach, eyes and mouth clenched shut in an effort to not up-chuck all over his best friend. 

When the world stops, Castiel asks, “Dean? Are-”

“Good. ‘m good, Cas. Just check on Sammy.”

Castiel pauses for a moment, then as he moves, Dean feels that calming finger stroking down his back. He hugs Castiel’s finger tighter and starts to breathe again, thinking,  _ honestly, fuck personal space _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of this, and if I should keep writing it! It is a fun story, and I'm sorry for the gap in putting out chapters. My motivation to write has been lacking.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter, a long car ride

**Castiel**

“Sam?” Castiel says, cupping Dean to his chest with one hand and shaking Sam’s shoulder with the other. 

Sam stirs and groans, rolling his head to the side and raising a hand to the back of his neck. 

Castiel places two fingers on Sam’s forehead and a moment later Sam blinks up at him, healed. He looks around the room, and immediately asks, too loud, “Where’s Dean?”

Castiel places a finger to his lips to shush Sam, who scrunches his eyebrows together as he stands. “Dean...has been cursed,” Castiel mutters, and can feel Dean move to cover his ears again. 

“Cursed? Wha-”

Castiel shushes him again and glares up at him for a moment before holding out his right hand and uncurling his fingers to reveal Dean, sitting cross legged in his palm, hands over his ears.

“Dean?” Sam breathes.

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean says cockily, but Castiel can hear the slight tremble in his voice as he looks up at Sam.

Sam stares at Dean for a while longer, mouth opening and closing before running a hand through his hair and exhalinling. “And...I’m guessing you already tried reversing it?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, and Sam huffs.

“Right. Right.” After a pause, he looks back to Dean. “Guess we should head back to the bunker, dig into the lore, probably call Rowena,” he whispers.

“Sounds good, Sasquatch,” Dean says, and earns a smirk from Sam.

“Says Thumbelina.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam says, but his smile doesn’t meet his eyes.

Cas and Sam gather up their guns and knives, and are heading to the door when Sam stops. “Shit- the keys. Dean, please tell me they weren’t in your pocket…”

Dean shakes his head. “Nah, they’re in Baby’s front seat.”

Sam sighs in relief, and they head to the car. Dean has reclaimed his position on his stomach, holding onto Castiel’s finger, because of all the movement. They go out into the rain, and Castiel uses both hands to shield Dean from it and the cold winds. After putting their gear in the trunk, Sam slides into the driver’s seat, Castiel gently sitting down on the passenger side. He keeps his hand holding Dean secure against his chest, and uses some of his grace to ensure his hand will stay steady despite the bumpy roads ahead of them. 

Dean covers his ears again and yells in pain as the engine starts and music blasts from the stereo.

“Sorry…” Sam mutters, turning off the radio and cursing under his breath. 

“You’re good,” Dean yells so Sam can hear him. “It’s literally the only time I’ll say ‘no’ to Zeppelin.”

Sam huffs out a laugh and puts the car into drive, easing down the dirt path through the woods and onto the main road. Castiel notices Dean shivering despite being out of the elements, and asks Sam to turn the heater on. After a pause, he shifts slightly and offers Dean the end of his tie as a blanket. They don’t speak, but Castiel can sense Dean’s gratitude. 

A few minutes later, Castiel smiles at the sound of a snore only he can hear.

**Sam**

Sam can’t help but look over at Dean and Castiel every few minutes. He can’t really see Dean, but he looks anyway, just to confirm that, yes, this is really happening. His brother is literally three inches tall, and is sleeping in an angel’s hand. Sam shakes his head for the millionth time that evening and focuses on the road. It’s raining harder now, and the windshield wipers are working like crazy, but there haven’t been any other cars for hours. It’s mind numbing, but it’s giving him time to think. 

As soon as they get to the bunker, Sam will call Rowena, maybe even Charlie and Garth- get as many trustworthy minds on the case as possible. Even though Cas couldn’t cure it, there  _ has  _ to be  _ something _ that can. 

Right? 

_ Yes _ , Sam tells himself. There  _ has _ to be. It’s just a witch’s curse, and believe it or not, they’ve been in worse places than this. Granted, it’s a lot worse for Dean than Sam can probably imagine, but they’ve dealt with end-of-the-world bad before; they can deal with shrunken-big-brother bad. They will fix this. Just like always.

Sam glances over yet again, and does a double-take when he sees Castiel’s face. He is looking down at Dean in a way Sam had seen before, only when Dean’s back was turned- but it’s  _ more _ somehow. Castiel is stroking Dean’s back with his free hand as Dean lies curled in Castiel’s tie, arms wrapped around Castiel’s finger. 

Sam has to look back at the road, but the image is stamped clearly in his mind. It was a look of pure, unhindered, unashamed  _ love _ . 

Sam smiles softly the rest of the drive home, thinking that this situation may at least have  _ something  _ good come out of it. Maybe those idiots will finally get their heads out of their asses and just see what they have right in front of them. Just maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, I am in the "Sam Ships It" club. Join me in hell. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel reveals some things and Dean panics a lot. And soup. There's also soup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, this takes place after season 11, but Charlene Bradbury is still alive and well and THRIVING in the background, so when she is mentioned just know that she is still with us. Might as well be immortal. Canon? I don't know her.

**Dean**

Dean wakes up slowly, hazily-  _ hungrily. _ He holds his stomach as it growls loudly, and blinks blearily up at the ceiling.  _ Huh. That’s weird _ , he thinks. Rubbing his eyes, Dean looks back up at what looked like pale trees hanging over his head...no... _ fingers. _

_ Holy shit I’m three inches tall. _

The reality of everything washes over him again, and he suddenly feels the  _ opposite  _ of hungry. He runs a hand over his face and attempts to keep his breathing in check before Cas notices-

“Dean?”

Well, so much for that.

“Dean, are you alright?” The roof of fingers moves away to reveal Castiel’s concerned-  _ giant _ \- face.

Dean sits up, but keeps Castiel’s tie around him, as much as it irks him to constantly need warmth. The tie is soft, and comfortable, and, though Dean won’t admit it, he likes how it smells of Cas.

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Just...remembered,” he says dully. 

Castiel hums his understanding, then says, “We made it to the bunker. Sam already called Rowena, and she is on her way here.”

Dean nods.

And his stomach growls again.

“You’re hungry.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you need food.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, sure.” Then he realizes something. “Cas, what time is it?”

“9:32 in the morning,” he says immediately, without looking at a watch.

“When’d we get back here?”

“Around 2AM.”

“So, what? You’ve just been sitting here with me asleep in your hand for the last seven hours?” Dean asks, scoffing to hide his blush.

“Yes,” Castiel says, tilting his head. “Why?”

“I- I dunno…didn’t you get...bored?” Dean doesn’t know where he should go with this. He feels guilty. He feels ashamed. He feels embarrassed. He feels...comforted?

“No. I spent the time reading fiction from the library Metatron placed in my mind.” After a pause, he says, “Dean, do you think it was necessary for Dumbledore to hide his overall plan from Harry? Honestly, couldn’t there have been  _ some _ other alternative than-”

“Hold up,” Dean interrupts. “You were reading fuckin’  _ Harry Potter _ ?” 

“Yes. All seven books.” He leans in closer before saying, “Charlie said not to read The Cursed Child- that it is actually  _ cursed _ .”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Man, you’re turning into a bigger nerd than Sam. C’mon, how ‘bout some grub?”

Castiel smiles softly. “Of course, Dean.”

**Castiel**

Castiel walks to the kitchen, Dean securely in his hands. Once there, he ponders for a moment about what a three inch tall human could eat. He decides that something soft, something liquidy would work well, and pulls a can of chicken noodle soup out of the cabinet. As he removes the lid of the tin with his grace and pours the soup into a bowl, Castiel says, “I would make you some homemade, but I am afraid my cooking skills are nonexistent.”

“It’s okay, buddy. We’ll fix that when I’m me again.” 

Castiel pauses and looks down at Dean. “You are still you, Dean. Just a different size. That doesn’t change who you are.”

Dean looks at his feet and shrugs. “Doesn’t feel like it,” he mutters.

Castiel doesn’t say anything for a while, focusing instead on heating Dean’s soup with his grace and procuring a small spoon. He doesn’t talk until they are sitting at the kitchen table, the hand with Dean lying on the tabletop in front of him. “I...understand how you feel, I believe,” Castiel says cautiously.

“You do?”

Castiel nods and looks at his lap. “When I became human, I...lost my sense of self. I no longer had my powers, no longer had my grace, things that I had come to let define me; they were an integral part of my being, things that were just a natural, constant element of my existence.” Castiel pauses for a moment, then continues. “I felt helpless; weak...useless. I was no longer certain of who I was. I had no real purpose, except to get back that which I had lost. I felt small.”

Castiel looks up at Dean, then away again. “But, I found that with time as a human, with time lacking the grandiose elements that made me an angel, I was able to get a better sense of who I was outside of those arbitrary things which I had let define me. I discovered a passion for reading. I found out that I like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I learned how to communicate better with people, on a more human level.” He smiles at this for a moment, looking off in the distance, before meeting Dean’s eyes.

“And I found out what really makes me  _ me _ , not just another angel. I discovered, in my worst moments, just what makes me strong, and what makes life worth living.” Castiel looks at Dean for several moments as Dean looks at some point in the distance. Finally, he speaks.

“I don’t really know what to say, man. I guess...I never really understood what that whole situation felt like for you until now. I’m glad you found some positive in it, and I guess I might be able to, too, but it’ll take time.” Dean thinks for a moment, then smirks up at Castiel. “I guess one thing is, I finally kinda get to see your true form.”

Castiel tilts his head in confusion. “My true form is a celestial wavelength of interdimensional light. I have three pairs of wings, several heads and dozens of eyes-”

“Cas,” Dean says, laughing. “Buddy, I meant ‘cuz your about the size of the fuckin’ Chrystler building to me right now.”

“Oh.” After a moment Castiel smiles softly. “I suppose that is almost accurate.” He and Dean share a lingering glance before Castiel remembers the soup. “You need to eat.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean says. “But... _ how _ exactly?” 

Castiel is about to ask what he means before he realizes the spoon is at least twice the length of Dean himself. He thinks for a moment, then asks Dean if he can set him on the table.

“Uh, sure?”

Castiel nods and gently sets Dean down, taking the spoon in both his hands. He easily snaps off the handle and sets it aside, then begins molding the head of the spoon with his fingertips into a small bowl-like shape. After dipping the tiny bowl into the soup, he sets it in front of Dean. “How is this?”

**Dean**

Dean sits with his knees to his chest, staring at the ‘bowl’ in front of him. Yeah, it was a good idea, but  _ fuck _ is it terrifying to realize just how strong Castiel is- and just how fragile Dean is at the moment. Dean has seen Castiel lift an anville, seen him punch a demon across the room. He  _ knows _ Cas is strong, but he doesn’t flaunt it, so Dean forgets. But now? It’s right in front of him. The dude just bent metal like it was fucking play-dough. And what could he do to  _ Dean _ ?

Dean shivers at the thought. No, he knows Castiel would never hurt him, and how he has been so cautious this entire time, keeping Dean safe, never taking risks, respecting his boundaries. But Dean’s irrational side is currently going haywire, realizing his own vulnerability. He doesn’t hear or notice Castiel until a hand comes towards him, and he jumps backwards at the sight. Castiel sops moving immediately. 

“Dean?” he asks, for what Dean realizes is not the first time. Castiel’s brow is furrowed, and he looks...pained? 

Dean takes a deep breath, trying to stave off another panic attack. “I- I’m fine, Cas. You didn’t do anything. ‘S fine.” 

Castiel ever-so-slowly moves his hand away and to his lap, a mingle of regret, concern, and what Dean knows to be self-deprecation on his face.

“Hey, no, no- it’s really okay, I- I just-”

“It’s alright, Dean. You don’t need to explain.”

Dean curls his legs back up to his chest. He sits like that for a while, eyes closed, focusing on calming his breathing. Castiel gives him space, sitting silently, looking off into the distance. Dean knows he hurt Cas’s feelings, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. There isn’t much he can do  _ period _ . So he focuses on right now, on the soup in front of him. 

He scoots forward and tests the temperature of the spoon bowl, and finds that it is warm, but not overly so. He also discovers that while it  _ is  _ a bit heavy, he is able to lift it and drink from it; it's more like a pot of soup than a bowl, so it’s a bit awkward, but nonetheless more convenient than anything he could have come up with. He really owes Cas, for so much from even just the last day, but he doesn’t know how to repay him. 

Dean looks up at his friend, at those blue, hooded eyes, dark hair, and angular face that he has come to know so well. He feels that familiar feeling stirring in his chest, but he pushes it down. Now is  _ definitely _ not the time to process those emotions. Nor is any other time, but certainly not  _ now _ , when he’s the size of an eraser and terrified of the world. 

How could he ever be scared Cas would hurt him? Even on accident?

“Hey, Cas?” Dean says, placing his empty bowl down in front of him. 

Castiel is alert immediately, turning to look at Dean cautiously. “Yes, Dean?”

“I’m sorry for freaking out- I just...it’s a lot, y’know? I’m still processing all this, and getting used to it, and I need you to know you didn’t do anything wrong. The opposite, really.”

Castiel’s face relaxes, until he notices Dean shivering again. “Dean…”

“Yeah...yeah, I know. You can...um...pick me up again now. I think it’s okay.”

Castiel nods and slowly moves a hand to lie in front of Dean, palm up. Dean pulls his jacket tighter around himself and steels himself against the guttural, instinctual fear he feels. _ This is  _ Cas _ , damnit _ .  _ Pull it together, Winchester _ .

Dean takes a deep breath as he steps up onto Castiel’s hand, and lets it out once he is sitting and positioned where he can easily grab Cas’s finger for takeoff. He can do this. Just one moment at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took literally exactly a month to post the next chapter, I've been having a Time TM & also working on other fics. (if you like this one, check them out maybe?)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's calling in reinforcements to try and figure out exactly what that powder is, and how they can fix Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, this took longer than I thought to get posted. But, it's here now! *tosses it at you* enjoy!

**Castiel**

Castiel watches as Dean steps onto his hand, settling down to make transport easier. He also sees Dean flinch and cower as Sam’s voice booms through the room and a shadow passes over the table. Castiel shoots Sam a glare, and Dean covers his ears. Sam quickly wraps up his phone call in a hushed tone, and kneels down next to his brother, concern written plainly on his face. 

“Dean, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Sammy, it’s fine,” Dean says, and Sam lets him cut across his argument though his voice is so much smaller; though Dean’s voice wavers, even as he assures everything is okay. 

Sam looks to the floor, then his gaze flickers to the dismantled spoon, putting the pieces together. “Guess you had breakfast, shorty?” he says with a smirk.

Dean crosses his arms. “Yeah, I did,  _ godzilla _ .” Castiel smiles softly at Dean’s bravado, but can sense the ever-present fear radiating from him since he was shrunken, only wavering in sleep. 

Sam snickers at the nickname, rolling his eyes. Castiel knows as well as Sam that they are in for a barrage of nicknames from the shrunken hunter. He looks back at Dean, feeling eyes on him, but by the time he looks down, Dean is looking at Sam.

“So, who were you on the phone with, sasquatch?”

Sam shakes his head, but Castiel sees a smile on his lips. He knows Sam is relieved Dean is okay enough to be joking around, because he himself is as well, especially with Dean’s near breakdown minutes before…

Castiel barely hears Sam’s answer, as lost in his thoughts as he is.

“Charlie. And before that, Garth and Eileen. I’m getting all hands on deck.”

The unspoken  _ just in case we can’t fix it _ hangs heavy in the air between them.

Dean nods, and Castiel can barely make out his tiny jaw clenching; he knows Sam wouldn’t be able to see. Castiel raises a tentative finger towards Dean, who jolts, looks warily for a moment as Castiel pauses, centimeters from him, then leans into the touch. Castiel feels a swell in his chest at the trust from Dean as he rubs his finger over his back in a soothing way. He can feel Sam watching, but doesn’t take his eyes off Dean. 

**Sam**

Sam watches Castiel interacting with Dean, noticing, even though Dean flinched at first, how natural they seem together; how Dean doesn’t protest the invasion of personal space, even  _ welcomes _ it. He knows his brother has to be terrified out of his mind, and that he probably hasn’t properly processed the situation he’s in, making his guards go down a bit. 

Okay, a  _ lot _ . 

Dean closes his eyes, and Sam sees that fond look pass over Castiel’s face again- that familiar, loving look…

_ God, these two _ , Sam thinks, smiling to himself.

They all jump at the knock on the door.

Sam sees Dean look from Castiel to him as he pushes up from his squat. “Probably Rowena,” he says. “I’ll check it out, you two stay here.” On his way to the door, Sam brushes a finger over the gun in his back pocket and the knife in his jacket. He notes the two other knives, one up his sleeve, and another in his boot.  _ Probably Rowena _ , he thinks,  _ but if not, I’m ready. _

As he trudges up the stairs to the door, there’s another knock, and he can make out an aggravated sigh from the other side- Rowena. Sam rolls his eyes before opening the door.

“Samuel! About time! Leaving me out here to freeze in the elements when I came all this way at the drop of a hat!” She starts to walk into the bunker but Sam stops her with a hand on her arm. 

“Gotta do the check. You know the routine.”

Rowena sighs again. “I suppose. But make it quick.”

Sam pulls out the silver knife from his jacket pocket and presses it to Rowena's skin as she peers up at him, looking entirely done with his shit. When there's no reaction other than annoyance, he pulls salt and holy water out of his pocket and tests her reactions. 

“See? I passed the test: just your friendly neighborhood witch.” She pushes past Sam, and he hears her heels clacking down the stairs as he puts the holy water away and locks the door behind him. He turns then and follows behind her.

“Dean’s with Cas in the kitchen. I’ve been looking through the lore, and I haven’t seen much on powders, let alone any like the one the witch used on Dean.”

Rowena pauses, then turns and looks up at Sam behind her. “That’s why you never let a hunter do a witch’s job,” she says with a smile before turning back around and walking to the kitchen.

**Rowena**

Rounding the corner of the hall and stepping into the kitchen, Rowena’s eyes fall on Castiel sitting at the table, then trail down to see Dean sitting cross-legged on his palm, covering his ears. She was expecting this from what Sam had told her, but seeing it was another thing. 

“My, look at the wee lad!” she whispers, remembering Sam’s instructions to keep her voice down. Dean flinches as she walks towards him and sinks down on the seat next to Castiel. 

“Did you  _ have _ to wear  _ heels _ , Rowena?” Dean growls up at her. Rowena’s eyebrows bunch in confusion for a moment before realizing how loud they must be for the shrunken hunter. 

“Dean, my dear, I  _ live _ in heels,” she says, but secretly feels a pang for making things harder on him. From the looks of his aura, he’s already been through a lot.

Sam comes into the room then, holding a small glass bottle filled with sparking, purple powder. He shuffles over and hands it to Rowena. “What d’you make of this?”

Rowena takes the jar and holds it up to the light, inspecting the shimmer of the powder as she turns it in her fingers, noting how even the little bottle is taller than Dean. She then brings it down and removes the stopper, sniffing the contents. It smells like a mixture of ocean and forest, with a faint hint of an unfamiliar sweet scent. 

“Well?” Castiel asks after a few minutes of Rowena’s inspection. 

Rowena shoots him a glare. “ _ Well _ ,” she says, “I’m not certain what this powder is, but I  _ do _ know it wasn’t made by a witch. Our magic leaves a faint trace, that other witches can detect. There’s nothing like that here.”

“So, you don’t know what it is,” Sam says, crossing his arms.

Rowena looks up at him. “I don’t know what it is  _ yet _ . Don’t lose faith, Samuel, my boy. I have my ways- but it will take time. And I could use some help from that tech-savvy lass you boys are so chummy with.”

“Charlie?” Dean asks.

“Aye.”

“She’s on her way,” Sam says, checking his phone. “Should be here within the hour. She’s picking Eileen up, too, and Garth is coming after he finishes up a hunt a state over.”

“Well then,” Rowena says looking at the men around her, “let’s get started, shall we?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel is old as shit, and Everyone Ships It TM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh!! I can't believe I've gone this long without updating!! I am *so sorry* I genuinely did Not realize it had been that long. Time Does Not Exist. Anyway, enjoy a fluffy chapter!

**Dean**

Sam gets Rowena settled in the main room where she scans over her texts, starting with the Book of the Damned; he also hauls a pile of tomes out of the archives for Castiel to look over, while he himself scours the internet. Dean is just along for the ride, cradled in Castiel’s palm. He tries to help at first, but reading words as big as your head is a little difficult, especially when the far edge of the page is blurred, just out of his line of sight- not to mention Castiel, being a celestial life force, is something of a speed-reader, and Dean just can’t keep up. 

Finally, Dean sinks down, resting his back against Castiel’s chest, a heart bigger than he is pounding behind him, resounding in his ears, reminding him of just how small, how weak, how useless he is. The world is just so fucking  _ big _ . Dean sighs, pulling his knees to his chest and curling into himself. Just making himself even  _ smaller _ -

“Dean? You okay?”

Dean jerks his head up at the whispered-but-still-loud words, and can make out the blurred shape of Sam’s puppy dog eyes across the gigantic table. Dean clenches his jaw, puts on a brave front that he knows Sam can’t make out, and waves a hand saying, “I’m alright, Sammy.”

Sam leans forward, a hand to his ear. “What?”

Dean pushes back the embarrassment, the shame, and cups his hands around his mouth. “I SAID I’M FINE, SAMMOTH!”

Rowena covers a snort and Sam sends over a confused bitch face. “What’d you just call me?”

“I believe Dean surmised a new nickname for you by combining your name with the word mammoth,” Castiel supplies without looking up from his book. Dean sees Castiel smirk above him before turning a page and saying, “And, by the length of your hair and relative size, it is not entirely inaccurate.”

“Hey!” Sam says, glaring at Castiel, and Dean, who has doubled over with laughter. “It’s not fair when you two team up,” Sam grumbles, swiping aggressively at his tablet screen.

Rowena sighs to Dean’s right and mutters, “Boys, boys, boys,” but there is a smile on her red lips. The room falls back into silence after that until a set of three booming  _ CLANGS _ rattles Dean to his core and sends him back into an instinctive ball, covering his ears. He can’t help the small whimper of primal fear that escapes him, nor how quickly his heart pounds against his lungs. Not a moment later, Castiel has abandoned the book to stroke Dean’s back yet again. Dean jumps at first- again- but finally starts to relax when he realizes it wasn’t a bomb, or even gunshots, but rather the door to the bunker being knocked on. When Rowena came, he had been much farther away from the door, and therefore was not subject to the noise. 

Dean doesn’t see Sam’s eyebrows furrowing before he heads to open the door, and refuses to look up until Charlie and Eileen are standing right next to him and Castiel.

“Hey, Dean,” Charlie whispers from above.

Dean takes a deep breath, forces a smile, and looks up to meet her kind, brown eyes. “Hiya, Kiddo!”

Charlie smiles back, and Dean notes it actually meets her eyes.  _ Good _ , he thinks,  _ at least  _ she’s  _ okay. _

Charlie shifts and Eileen moves into Dean’s vision as she squats down to be level with him. “Sorry for having to be so close,” she whispers, “I want to be able to read your lips.” She looked apologetic to be in his personal space, and Dean feels gratitude for her concern bubbling in his chest. Sammy always knew how to pick ‘em.

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Eileen smiles and nods, then stands again, moving to take a spot between Sam and Charlie at the table. She and Charlie both pull out laptops and get straight to work. Dean sighs again, itching for something to do, so he can stop feeling so damn  _ useless _ . He’s so lost in his own thoughts that it takes him, the skilled hunter that he is, entirely too long to notice the giant blue eyes watching him from above.

**Castiel**

“You’re not,” Castiel murmurs, loud enough that only Dean can hear. 

Dean stares directly up at Castiel’s right eye, gulping when he realizes the pupil is bigger than his hand. “Not...what?”

“Useless. Helpless. Whatever myriad of negative things you’re thinking about yourself right now.”

Dean blushes and looks down at Castiel’s palm, placing a hand on a lifeline he could trip over. “Thanks, man, I- I just have a hard time seeing that, right now. We don’t know how long this will last…” He trails off, implying what he can’t bring himself to say.

“Right,” Castiel says. “So will stewing in self-loathing make any of this any easier?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Why do you have to be right?”

The corners of Castiel’s lips tug upward. “I’ve had a lot more experience with these things than you.”

“Right, in your hundred thousand years of life, or whatever.”

“Actually, it’s around 400 million.”

If Dean had been drinking something, he would have done a real-life spit take. Instead, he chokes on air for a few seconds. “ _ Really _ ?”

Castiel chuckles and nods, absentmindedly rubbing Dean’s back again. 

“Holy  _ shit _ dude. That’s-”

“Really, really old, yes.”

“Well, I was gonna say ‘fucking incredible’ and ‘insane’, but yeah, you’re old as shit.”

Castiel tilts his head slightly. “I believe I am far older than any ‘shit’ that still exists.”

Dean throws his head back laughing again, nearly falling over backwards.

Castiel doesn’t quite understand why, but he enjoys Dean’s happiness nonetheless. 

They notice Dean’s stomach growling at the same time. “Do you want to help me make everyone lunch?” Castiel asks once the hunter calms down.

“Not sure how much help  _ I’ll  _ be, but yeah, sure, why not?”

Castiel nods, and as he moves to stand Dean jolts into his regular position, flat on his stomach, hugging Castiel’s ring finger for dear life. “We are going to ‘get some grub’ together for everyone. We will return momentarily,” Castitel tells the room, placing a single-handed air quote around the phrase he has heard Dean use so often. Then he turns and heads to the bunker’s kitchen.

**Charlie**

Charlie leans forward once Castiel and Dean are gone to look at Sam across Eileen. “So, Sam: when were you guys gonna tell me Dean and Cas are together?”

Sam huffs out a laugh and looks at the hallway door where Castiel had disappeared. “I was gonna tell you as soon as they tell  _ me _ . I promise, I wouldn’t keep you out of the loop.”

“ _ Damn _ ,” Charlie says, falling back into her chair and blowing a puff of air up at her bangs. “I really thought they finally  _ admitted it _ .”

“I know, right? Me and Sam have a bet going, about who will crack first,” Eileen says, rolling her eyes. “My vote is Castiel; Dean’s so  _ repressed _ .”

Rowena peers over her book, eyebrows raised. “Hmm...might want to rethink that, Dearie.  _ Both  _ of their auras are a shimmering, hot  _ pink _ , more than I’ve ever seen them.”

“What’s pink mean?” Charlie and Eileen ask at the same time.

“Why, that they’re in  _ love _ of course! But, then again, you don’t need to see auras to know  _ that _ ,” she finishes with a nod.

Sam lets out a long suffering sigh, head in his hand. “Tell me about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, whatchya think? Who'll crack first? ;)


End file.
